Basket Full Of Oranges
by SaintDays
Summary: Rico is chosen for a special assignment: To catch one of the worlds worst child traffickers. But even when there's the best intention for things to go right things can always go wrong. Could this be Rico's last assignment? Reviews much appreciated.
1. Mop

[Authors Note: I (Danny Morris/SaintDays) do not own any part of the Gunslinger Girl franchise; Gunslinger Girl is trademark to Funimation. All other characters are trademark to me (Danny Morris/SaintDays)]

[**WARNING:** This story is rated M for mature audiences only due to language, adult themes, and explicit suggestions. If any of these terms should offend you, it is advised you do not read on. Thank you]

The blood from a man in a nice and tidy black business suit trickled down his forehead as his deceased body sat upright in a leather chair stained with the odor of death. His glasses stayed still on the floor, cracked in one lenses. His once black combed hair was now a mess like a beaten bush. Bullets were skewed on the floor, astray, alone. The curtain behind him was riddled with holes from a violent event that took place just seconds ago. It was so quick that not even the deceased man knew what happened. Outside was the sound of a busy city. One that was ignorant of the world around them. Even if they knew what was going on, they wouldn't act on their knowledge. For they didn't care of anything that was not related to them. It was pure ignorance in the heart of these people.

Henrietta stood firm, viewing her work. Her P60 was hugged tight in her arms, holding it like it was her last lifeline, which in a way, was ironic. She scuffed her feet against the red stained carpet, with small dots of the original color of purple scattered like spots on a dog. She switched on her safety as she heard Jose walk in the room. Her legs straightened up, along with her posture. Her stance became stiff.

"The others will be here soon to clean up," The look in his eyes were plain and unemotional, like usual.

"Yes," Was all the little girl said.

"You did good. It seems his entire stash was here" Jose said, eying the open closet with several stored automatic weapons inside it; AK-47s, L85s, the works.

Jose fixed his tie, taking a few steps towards the dead mans body, squatting down in front of it. It was amazing that the man wasn't armed, considering what he had at hand just a few feet away. Not even a knife on his person.

Jean walked in next, followed by Rico who held on to her CZ75, letting it loosely swing in her hands as she moved behind her handler. The two surveyed the destroyed room. Rico walked to the closet and began taking the guns out, putting them in an organized line on the carpet. She took boxes out of the closet, and began putting the guns inside them in an orderly fashion. She went over ordinary checks, making sure each clip was empty and that the safeties were on. If there was ammo inside a gun, she'd empty the bullets into another box. Like sorting files in an office.

"We've got this, why don't head on out now?" Jeans question wasn't as much a question, but more like a request; one that he didn't want to be denied.

Jeans eyes fell upon the body with disgust. Not at the scene or the blood, but at the man that once lived. A hermit of sorts, who did nothing but sell guns and watch dirty videos. A disgrace to all Italian men. His eyes then traveled to Rico, who was doing his request, and therefore he had no reason to complain of what she was doing, although he searched to find one. However he waited until he watched his brother and his little pet leave the room before he scolded his cyborg. Or rather his dog.

Once the room was empty he cleared his throat, "Put the fifty calibers in a different box, not in the same box as the twenties" His feet dragged to his pet.

"Yes, sir" Rico obeyed, sorting the bullets as told.

Once everything was nice and sorted the two made multiple trips back and forth carrying the boxes of dangerous toys. They stored the boxes outside into a brown van with the words _Giallo__Construzione__Servizio_. Of course, the van didn't really belong to any construction service, but a cover up vehicle for Section 2's movements and operations. They had few vehicles that weren't covered up with titles on them such as _Giornale__di__consega_, and _Jerricos__ristorazione_.

Once all the packages were stuffed away in the van, Rico and Jean went back to the room to take a final sweep for any weapons before a cleaning crew came in to wipe away the mess and make the room look like brand new. Any spot of blood, or any make of a bullet had to be covered up. The presence of Section 2 had to be purged completely. Should any evidence of the assassination be left, the mission was considered a failure, even if the target was eradicated.

Jean and Rico passed the three cleaning men on their way down the stairwell to outside. The people in the streets bustled around, not knowing about the world around them. Ignorance. Ignorance in the masses.

The two sat in the van, Rico sitting in the front passenger seat. She turned around in the leather seat, looking at her work of the three dozen or so boxes of ammunition and guns. There was enough weaponry for an entire small army of soldiers. The man they had killed was Italy's eleventh biggest gun smuggler. It was like catching gold fish in an ocean full of tuna. It wasn't what they wanted, but they dealt with what they had.

"Once we get back to headquarters we'll bring all the boxes to one of the warehouses near the training ground"

"Yes, sir" Rico's voice was stale with her answer, unemotional.

The two drove in silence in the busy streets of Florence for a while. The only words spoken were by Jean, lecturing his dog on what she did wrong. He told her to not let her gun swing so much when she held it, to be smarter when sorting weapons out, to keep a closer look out for anyone watching them placing the boxes in the van (though know one would know what was in the boxes anyway), and to hold the boxes tighter so they wouldn't spill. Just lecturing that Rico had become used to during the time she spent with her handler. She could only recall one or two compliments he had ever given her, and when he did give them they were shortly followed by rebutted corrections of her actions. He was nothing like his brother, who showered his _sorellina_ with gifts and love that only a true brother could show. But she never got jealous. For after all, why get jealous when you are already blessed with another day where you can still breath the sweet air that the Earth gave to it's children.

Back at headquarters, putting away the boxes was a long task, but an easy one. It would take about ten minutes just to go from the van to the warehouse and back. But again, Rico didn't mind. Though she didn't show it, she kept positive about this undertaking of seemingly endless work. If anything it kept her active, and that she didn't mind. Better to be working than to be sitting around doing nothing. Better to be in the open sun than to be locked up in the corner of a room doing nothing but cleaning a gun, over and over again.

Inside the warehouse was tons and tons of confiscated evidence from other missions, with items ranging from smuggled guns to kilos of drugs. These were the items that ran the underworld of Italy, and the rest of Southern Europe.

"We're finished," Jean said as Rico placed the final box down amongst the cluster.

Rico didn't reply and simply wiped the sweat off her forehead with a smile.

"Thank you" She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, but Rico thanked her handler anyways; it was just in her nature to give a random thank you to everyone she knew.

"In one hour meet me at the front entrance of the shotting range of the training ground and we'll do some target practicing with your pistol. You could use some practice"

"Yes, Jean"

And those were the final words. The two departed there and then. Rico left the warehouse, going out near the gardens. There she saw Henrietta near the rising flowers playing her violin. The sound filled the air, and gave a calm feeling to Rico as she walked by. She thought about complimenting her, but thought that she better not interrupt her playing. It was too beautiful to stop.

Rico went to her room where she was now staying with Henrietta. A recent fire had occurred within the entire dorm area; one that started from an electrical circuit break. No one was hurt in the fire, but there was an excessive amount of damage done to the dorms, forcing most of the girls to move into rooms that were once left empty. But it wasn't so bad. Rico enjoyed the company of Henrietta, so it didn't bother her at all that she had to move. And it wasn't like she lost anything in the fire.

The room was empty except for Henrietta's P90, and Rico's own Dragunova SVD. She laid her CZ on the round table that was in the center of the room. Out of her pocket she took a cloth, and taking a seat in one of the three chairs, began wiping the gun. She wiped it clean of any dust or dirt that may have collected on it when she had it out earlier.

Outside Rico heard shots that seemed to be coming from in the direction of the training grounds. She paid little attention to the sound, knowing that it was probably one of the other girls doing some practice. She continued to wipe her gun until the door was opened and Henrietta entered with a small smile.

"Hi Rico"

"Hey" Rico gave back a brighter smile.

Henrietta placed her violin case on the bottom bunk; the one where she slept. She sat down making the springs squeak a little, giving that mouse like sound.

"Nice job today," Rico complimented as she put down her gun, her smile still present.

Henrietta gave a lightly hesitated "Thanks", her cheeks turning a light color of red.

Rico knew that Henrietta was always embarrassed whenever she got a compliment, even if it was from Jose. That was just her character, and also the small dosage of conditioning. Rico often wondered what it was like to not be conditioned so heavily. But again, she didn't mind the heavy conditioning she got from Jean, because at least she was alive and breathing.

"I heard you playing earlier too," Rico gave a glance at the violin case, "You always play so wonderfully"

"Thank you, I've been trying really hard to get better at playing"

"Well however your practicing is working for you. I wish I could learn how to play"

"Jean won't give you lessons?"

"Probably not"

Rico had never really asked Jean for lessons. Though Henrietta was giving her small lessons herself here and there, Henrietta was only a beginner herself, so it wasn't that great of a help to learn how to play. Rico would ask Jean, but she was sure of his answer, so she didn't bother. She rarely asked him to anything for her. She just knew better.

"Well maybe Jose could give you lessons"

That'd be an issue. Jean never liked it when his brother butted in on how he treated his pet. It was a constant argument between the two _fratelli_. It may have been the only thing they argued about.

The two girls fell to a small silence. The sound of a chirping bird perched outside the single window filled the room with beauty. Both of the young children admired the creature and it's song. It's music was more beautiful than any violin or orchestra. This one creature brought a little bit of joy to both of the girls. Time passed on as they listened, and soon nearly an hour had passed. The SWA's clock rang eleven times, marking the current time. Immediately Rico parted out of the trance that she had just been in sitting in her chair listening to the small sounds in the outside world, and gave her _ciao_ to Henrietta as she left the room to go to the shooting range.

It was nice strolling outside the dorm area. Under the granite pilers the sun gleamed as bight as day. Birds of all sorts chirped their songs of love to Rico as she passed by on the walkway. Across the way she saw Triela with Hillshire. Triela was carrying her Heckler battle rifle, and also seemed to be a bit dirty around the face. It therefore seemed that the two had just returned from an assignment, and it also seemed it didn't go all that well either. Their relationship was a confusing one. Hillshire treated his girl with a stay-away approach, and didn't spend all that much time with her. However Rico knew that he often tried to show affection with occasionally giving her a gift, usually a stuffed teddy bear. Rico wanted to give a loud hello to them and wave, but knew better. Triela looked especially tired, and she didn't want to bother the two.

Rico reached the shooting range where she saw Jean waiting with a pair of earmuffs on. It wasn't until that moment that Rico realized she had forgotten to bring her pistol. She was ashamed at that moment, and found difficulty to pick out the words to say to her handler regarding this embarrassing moment. She knew that she'd get lectured about it, and harshly too. But she had to tell him.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my pistol" Her muscles tensed a bit as she prepared for a lecture.

"That's okay" The pitch of Jean's voice was almost sympathetic and sorrowful; a tone that Rico had never heard her handler use with her.

"Today we're going to be shooting with this anyway" Jean placed a type 64 silent pistol on the wooden table in front of him, next to some boxes of ammunition, "We'll also be training in hand to hand combat"

Rico approached the table, picking up the gun. She took the normal steps of preparing to fire her weapon on the range; put on her earmuffs and goggles, make sure the clip was loaded, switch off the safety. The girl took her stance at the bullseye that was fifteen yards away.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Wood chipped of the target, flying in every direction. The bullets hit their mark, almost close to perfect. But it wasn't perfect and Jean wanted better. And so Rico prepared to shot another seven rounds.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

This time the hits were a little closer to being perfect. It's true, her accuracy with the pistol was extremely good for a child, but it was nowhere good enough for a cyborg. It needed to be done again. She needed to fire again and again until the accuracy was good enough for Jean to approve.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Better this time. The three step process of firing went on for at least one full hour. Jean coached her little during this time. Fix your stance, don't lean in so much, try not to flinch when you fire. The usual words that came out of his mouth when doing target practice together. But his tone of voice was soft, like that of a lover. It almost seemed as if he was being a little nice to her. Why he was doing this, Rico didn't know, and she pondered about it a great deal. What could make Jean act in such a kind way? Normally when they did shooting practice he'd lecture her about everything with the tone of a general and the harshness of an owner of a pet. Because that's what Rico was to Jean and nothing more. A pet. A pet to do his dirty work.

"Good. Now we'll move on to hand to hand."

The two walked behind the target that was riddled with bullets to find a dummy made out of hay. It looked more like a scarecrow than a dummy, but that's what it was. There was another wooden table behind here too. But instead of guns, this one had two different kinds of knives (a pocket knife and a kitchen knife), a pipe, and a crowbar. This wasn't what Rico thought Jean meant when he said hand to hand. But his wishes were her command.

"As you know, not in every situation will you have a gun on you. It could run out of ammo, you could drop it, so you have to learn how to use items at hand should you have the need to."

Jean picked up the kitchen knife, "Knives are small and easy to carry. You already carry one on you everywhere you go when on assignments. They are easily hidden, making it a good surprise weapon. But you must know how to use it correctly in order to get the most effectiveness out of it"

He bent his knees, bouncing up and down lightly with the back of his heels, "When it comes to close hand combat, you can not stop moving. Bounce lightly with your heels to be ready for your enemies strike. Keeping yourself moving helps you keep prepared for his attacks, as well as your own"

He took a run towards the man made out of hay and stabbed him in the heart. Little pieces of stray hay fell out, falling to the earth like feathers. Yellow thin feathers.

Jean went over how to use all four weapons correctly. How to swing the pipe, where to hit a target to inflect the most damage, areas to hit the target to knock them unconscious. These tips would come in use to Rico in all her missions.

When it come for Rico's turn to show what she observed from her handler, Jean grabbed her hands to help her. He was acting like his brother now. The softness of their skins touched as Jean went over how to stand correctly, and where to strike fatal blows, slowly pushing her hand forward to the areas of interest. His voice was soft, though his words were that of lecturing. But it was better than to be scolded. Rico would have smiled during this training, but held it back due to the seriousness of what they were doing. It would be inappropriate for her to enjoy this training. But she was. It was as if Jean wasn't teaching her, but still teaching her at the same time.

In the distance was a sound of a violin. It's sound pierced the heart of Rico. She couldn't help but give a small smile now at this moment despite the seriousness of the training. This moment of peace and harmony. Even though the teachings were of violence, indiscreetly they also seemed to be about friendship, or maybe even love.

Two more hours passed of training. The minutes flew by. Whatever the reason that made Jean so caring, she wanted that reason to not come to an end. She wanted it to continue forever, for this moment was precious. Precious in the feeling of love. The first feeling of love.

In these minutes of peace Rico found herself for some reason fondly attracted to Jean. Now more than ever did she want to impress him. It felt like that was the only thing she could do at that moment. She had to impress him in order to preserve the moment.

The training was over and Rico took a breather from all the slicing and dicing she had done to the poor scarecrow of a man. His heart was gutted out, along with all of his other organs. Rico began to image all the strands of hay in the dirt as blood. The sight of the dead man this morning flashed in her eyes. But of course that image didn't bother her. What kind of assassin would she be if the image of death bothered her? Not a very good one.

"Tomorrow I'm going to wake you from your room. I don't know what time. But tomorrow morning we have an important briefing with Lorenzo. So be prepared, and clean your guns good"

"Yes, Jean"

And again, that was that. The days work was over. Or so Rico thought.

"Rico," Jean began, leaving a long hesitation as if going to say something he was uncomfortable with saying, "Let's go to the café"

The shock could not have been greater. Never did Jean act like this to Rico. Never. Maybe it was possible Jose had said something to him that changed his heart. Or maybe this had something to do with her mission tomorrow. Could it be so dangerous that Jean had no choice but to act kind to her out of pity and worry? No, there was no such mission that could have that much of influence of the heart on Jean. Impossible.

The two walked to the café in silence, but it was a peaceful one. Now that secrete feeling began to glut within Rico. This feeling had been hidden for far too long. So long that it was never understood until this time. And it was a gracious feeling. It enhanced the sound of Jeans footsteps, the smell of his breath, and the pulchritudinous of his eyes and whole. This feeling began to make Jean look more like an angel rather than a master. A very beautiful _angelo_. She had to ask.

"Jean?" Her voice was soft and young.

"Yes?"

Normally when Rico was to ask of something, Jean would grunt or give that kind of "I don't care" look, but he answered just like a normal person; an answer that didn't have that ready-to-lecture tone.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Jean showed no reaction to the question, his eyes fixated on the path in front of him. They didn't even go in the direction of the questioner. They simply stayed where they were supposed. And his mouth did it's job by staying shut until he decided to change the topic.

"Anything specific you want?" He asked his cyborg as the two walked threw the doors of the café.

Rico shook her head, eying the almost empty room except for two others. She recognized Hillshire and Triela both sitting at a table. But instead of drinking tea or coffee, Hillshire was showing Triela some sort of map. Most likely it had to do with their mission that day. Now Triela was cleaned, and the smudges that were once on her face were now gone.

Jean told Rico to sit at one of the window tables, and she willfully obeyed, though he didn't sit down with her at first. In a few moments Jean left and came back with a crumpet cake from the vending machine. He placed and then went back and came back, bringing two cups of green tea. The two sat in silence, but it was good enough. Good enough for one of them at least.

Finally Jean broke with his answer, "I don't know"

That was all. That was all he said, but Rico understood him completely. Even if her handler didn't know, she did.

"Thank you" Were the two words Rico spoke.

The two sat in more silence the entire time. Outside was the sound of a violin that played wonderfully in the distance. The sound pierced the heart of Rico. Her smile was small, but meaningful, and full of childish hope. Hope that the child would need when her time would come later on. But of this future she didn't know of yet, so she kept happy in the moment that she wished could last forever without end. For if this moment was to end then so would the meaning to breath.

It was Beethoven's ninth. _An die __Freude_.


	2. Dawn to Stars

The sun glared through the open window. Outside a bird sang, giving song to the entire room, as well as a sense of peace. It was a feeling that stirred in the mind of Rico. Her musing was of this feeling of wonderfulness. Even when she awoke she was still lost in reverie. Her smile couldn't have been cuter.

Sometimes Rico wished that in their room was a mirror so could check on how she looked. Sure looking good wasn't a mandatory thing, but sometimes she just wanted to look better. Her eyes store at her hands, the smile on her face still present. Today was going to be a blessing. Everyday was a blessing for Rico. Even every second was a gift.

The memory of Rico being in that hospital was still lodged in her head. The images of her parents arguing sometimes made her giggle. But what really made her smile was knowing that instead of being underground, she was above it. And that she had to thank someone for. Usually she thanked Jean in her mind, for he was the one that took her under his wing after all. Him and all the rest of the staff in Section 2. She had all of them to thank for this life she had now where she could eat, sleep, and talk with her friends. She wouldn't change anything in her life, and she knew she would never want to. She just wanted to keep on doing her work with Jean to make him proud of her, even is he never appreciated it. As long as she could do the work she was told to, she'd be happy for the rest of her days. That was all she ever wanted. And in truth, that was all she would ever do. Work and no play as the saying went. Or something like that.

Rico reached under the bunk where Henrietta still slept, and pulled out her suitcase. She took off her nightgown and dressed into her usual attire: A nice wool brown buttoned jacket that she loved to wear. It kept her nice and warm during the cold days of Italy. She slipped on her brown jeans along with her socks and shoes. And now all she could so was wait for that knock. That knock that would began her day.

Rico put her Dragunova on the wooden table. She took the cloth that was left on the table and began wiping the muzzle. It was already crystal clean, but she had nothing better to do while she waited for her handler to show up with the order to move out. The muzzle sparkled with pride in Rico's work. Pride in the men that she had killed and the lives that she had saved.

It wouldn't be for at least for an hour and a half before Jean showed up at Rico's door. Rico was expecting to go to the main office building to see Lorenzo, but that wasn't so. Instead they went into the café where they had been the previous day. And instead of eating a nice breakfast like Rico hoped once they walked inside the doors, they sat down at a table where another man was sitting down smiling in his chair. She didn't recognize him, but he dressed like he worked with the agency. A black business suit with black pants, a nice blue tie that matched his dark blue eyes and thinning gray hair. Rico placed her hands on her lap as Jean took a seat next to her.

"_Salve, come sta Rico_?" The man had a clear Greek accent.

"_Sono buone_" Rico replied, a smile not present and her tone stale and normal.

"Good to hear. My name is Aetos Manos. I represent the chief of police in Athens"

What did a Greek man want with Rico?

"And hello to you too Jean. I know our talking yesterday morning was brief, but I hope it was long enough for you to consider your options"

"It was. I'm going to let her go"

Aetos rested his two old hands in front of his chin, obviously contemplating about something. And it looked like he was thinking about something important too.

"Rico, you must be wondering why I'm here and why _you're_ here. I am friend of Lorenzo, and in fact will be setting up a new agency in Greece much like the one you have here in Italy by the end of the year. But that really doesn't have a lot to do with you I suppose. You see there's a very big _pedofilo_ that I have been chasing for over two years."

Aetos took out a folder from underneath him, placing it on the table. When he opened it there were papers and papers of written documents in Greek. Rico only picked out the words she knew; _dangerous_, _Ukraine_, _young_. The rest she didn't understand. Also in the folder was a picture of an old man, probably only a few years older than Aetos himself. He was loosing his hair like Aetos, but wore round glasses and had a small rugged gray mustache.

"His name is Lev Nikolski, fifty seven years old. He was born in L'viv, Ukraine, right along the Polish border, but moved to Athens with his family when he was eight. He traffics about four hundred children under the age of twelve a day in Greece, Albania, and Turkey. We think he's been trafficking for about six years now, but we only caught whiff of him during his fourth year because he always moves around. One day he's in Tirana, the next Istanbul. We didn't know that all of the children he owns were related to each otherby being under his control until we started getting information from an inside source."

Aetos paused, leaning back in his chair. He was still pondering about whatever he was pondering.

"He's here in Italy. Specifically Genoa. And it looks like he's going to set up a new shop if you catch my saying. And Rico we, and by we I mean everyone within the Child Abuse Regulations Service in Europol, want this guy caught. And we also want you to go in for us. We want you to go in, and help us catch him"

Aetos went on from there on the details of how everything would work. A tracking device would be implanted in Rico as well as a listener in her ear so they could listen to her should she need to speak to them and so she could here their orders. Aetos and his men were a small team of detectives from Europol, just like Hillshire before he joined the agency. They'd always be no less than one kilometer away from Rico should danger fall upon her and her life became in serious danger.

In all of her missions, whenever Rico found her target, she either eliminated the target or captured them. During this mission she was to follow him everywhere she could and stay with him as long as needed so the Europol team could identify all the locations Lev kept his _bambini_. His children. They wanted to save as many as they could from this man and his henchmen. It was simple: the more they saved the better. And that meant that Rico would have to stay with Lev for a long period of time and endure all the abuse given to her.

Aetos was kind enough to explain why Rico was chosen. It wasn't because of the other girls themselves, but rather their pasts and their handlers. Triela and Henrietta were the only other ones able to go, but _allowing_ them to go was out of the question. Triela had already been in the world of trafficking enough, and Hillshire would never allow her to go, considering what he saw when he worked with the same people that Rico would soon be working with. Henrietta's situation was the same; she had been raped in front of her dead family before the agency took her in, and Jose cared too much for her to let such an hideous thing be done to her again. That only left Rico. There was Elsa too, but the lack of concern Lauro showed for her made the team weary of sending her, knowing that Lauro wouldn't care what happened to his 'tool'. So it was just Rico left to choose for this assignment. The other girls had their acceptable excuses (or rather, their handlers did).

The Greek went on to explain that they wanted to suit up at get to Genoa as fast as possible. The Europol team tracked him down to a small apartment building where it was possible he was hiding some children. Europol would like to bust in and save them, but they needed to know where Lev's other hiding locations for his "goods" were back in the other countries he operated in. All they needed was a slip of the mouth and they could rescue countless lives of dozens, if not hundreds, of sexually abused kids. Rico had never been abused, and therefor didn't realize how truly bad it was. But she had to be strong for the other _bambini_ that were being raped every minute. She had to do it for them.

"So, you'll be taking no guns on this mission. Not ever a knife. We can't have this guy getting suspicious, got it?" He went on before she could answer "We're going to place you in front of his apartment once we arrive. I'll explain more on the way there."

Aetos pushed up out of his chair, running his hand through his hair. He gave the "come on" sign with his hands as he walked out the doors. The two followed him to the front entrance of headquarters. At the main gate were two black vans, motors still running. Smoke from the exhaust pipes filled the air with a gray smog. A black SUV drove up through the open gate and stopped behind the vans. It's brakes screeched as it came inches away from the bumper of the second van. Out stepped a man wearing the same attire as Aetos, but with more hair, and less years of age. A lot less.

Aetos slid open the door to the van behind the first, allowing the Italians to sit in. There was already a driver up front who looked like a body guard wearing a strict black attire, including a pair of square black sunglasses. Maybe Rico was underestimating the importance of this assignment.

And then it all began. Before Rico could snap in her seatbelt the van began to drive off, the wheels spinning away. It was like a small caravan of armed men (and one little girl) traveling across the open roads of Italy. An caravan of justice and guns.

They pulled out of the agency's driveway letting the mission begin. It only took minutes to go from a nice morning bed to this. She wasn't even asked if she wanted to accept the mission. She thought she would of considering how serious Aetos seemed to be thinking about the assignment. But she was only a tool of the trade, and why ask I tool if it wanted to be used? Of course it would say no, it didn't want to be twisted, banged, or yanked. The tool would want to be left alone to sit and collect dust rather than be used. But Rico didn't know if she would have said no if asked. She probably would have said yes. She couldn't imagine herself saying no to doing an assignment. Even though this one seemed to mean she had to prepare herself for being raped, she still didn't think she would have said no. Rico didn't even know why she was wishing she had been asked, for it wasn't like she had ever been asked before. Though there was a first for everything she supposed.

Rico, Jean, and the driver, all rode in complete taciturnity. The busy city was the only one that tried to give conversation, but it failed multiple times. Police sirens, car horns; nothing worked on these three. Eventually the driver punched a button and on came the beautiful work of Giuseppe Verdi. His opera had helped inspire a revolution in the boot leg of a country. A true musical genius that was the Beethoven of all of Italy. There was not one Italian over the age of thirty-two that did not know at least one of his songs. High schools played his music, and children read about him in the books. He was a true propagandist too.

Only after a few minutes of driving did the caravan pull over to the side of the street, letting the busy commute pass on by. The passenger front door was opened and Aetos came in, closing th door behind him. He tapped the driver's shoulder, giving the sign to start driving again. And sure enough they were off.

"You can sit tight, we have a two hour drive. But here's how it's going to happen. Rico, we're going to place you outside the apartment where Lev is staying. We think there's at least two other men staying with him. We don't know how many children he has, but we're guessing at least seven or eight.

You're going to stay outside the apartment entrance until he, or one of the other men he's staying with, come out. The others names are Yale Turk, 35 and Dymas Chatzi, 38. We don't have photos of them, but we do think they're in there. All we know is Yale is bald and Dymas has brown short combed hair. Should you encounter one of them, you'll approach them saying your name is Narella Lekkas and you're nine years old. You're parents just abandoned you on the side of the road because they can't afford to house you. Your father's name is Anker, and your mother's name is Zelia. Your parents work at a flower shop in Palermo. You will act as sad and lost as possible so they'll take you in. You're story has to be completely believable.

You have no siblings and no pets. You like to play chess because your father taught you when you were younger. You enjoy going outside and you hate the dark and asparaguses.

There's no easy way to say this so I'll just go ahead: prepare your body for excessive abuse. You will most likely be raped and beaten. But we need you to be strong Rico, we need you to help us catch this man and save hundreds of other children your age."

How could she prepare herself to be violated and tortured? Was that even possible? She certainly didn't think so. And she didn't think Aetos thought so either. But what else could he say? Not much in truth she knew that, so she understood his choice of words.

He went on to give more details, such us how they'd always be no less than one kilometer away from her. He asked her to stick out her arm, and she did. Aetos stuck a nettle, which he said inside was a small little chip. He also took a small black dot and placed it inside her ear: her listening device. Should Rico ever think that she was in extreme, and only _extreme_ danger, then she would just have to say the word safety words 'back in Berlin'.

"Once you say those three words a team of armed men from our team will charge on your location and take you out of there, as well as arrest whoever is with you, even if there are no other children present or even Lev himself. But you must understand it is only if you are in extreme danger that you can say those words. I can't stress that enough. We need to save these kids. That's basically it. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but that's all you need to know and do. Oh, and we'll be communicating very lightly. We're going to have you in his possession for as long as we deem necessary. We're hoping no more than two weeks."

Rico hoped that the two weeks they hoped she'd spend with him wouldn't be elongated. That was enough for her. As she thought it about it a little more, most of the children in Lev's possession had probably been with him for many weeks, if not months. Aetos did say Lev had been trafficking for years, so maybe even longer than that. She didn't even want to begin to imagine what some of these other _bambini_ had seen and went through during their captivity. She didn't know any of them, but already she felt sympathetic. Was that a weakness? To be sympathetic? Could being sympathetic and worrisome of the other children make her more venerable and damageable from the abusers? Could it make her an easier target for their fun and games? Could Rico really do this? She certainly had a lot to think about here. This had all happened so fast that she had never gotten that chance.

The driver grunted as they drove into some heavy traffic on a highway. He honked his horn a few times, cursing under his breath. Aetos tapped him on the shoulder, trying to comfort him with a smile.

"Get some rest" Jean said, not even looking at his dog.

"Yes, sir" Rico closed her eyes, picturing the moments she had had with Jean the previous day, bringing a light smile to her face that was barely visible.

Rico was lost in thought with these memories. In this lost transfusion Rico took her orders and fell into a long trance. Soon enough the young child fell asleep, her head tilting on the cold glass window that made her body slightly shake for warmth. Her eyes fluttered as they were shut closed for dreaming. The sound of Verdi filled her mind with peace and her soul with ease. Despite the heaviness of thought and bearing of her current assignment she could take a breather, even if only for an hour or two. She needed it.

Despite being a cyborg and having a mechanical body, her mind wasn't completely mechanical. Rico, as well as the rest of the girls, had the ability to dream. Sometimes they were pleasant dreams, but most of the time they were horrible nightmares caused by the stress of her days work. But luck was on the side of the girl, for this dream was a beautiful one. In it she saw vivacious colors dance and splash in a black room. She saw pink splatter with granny smith apple. The colors of Italy were slammed on the black wall as the sound of Verdi slowly entered her mind. The display of colors was phenomenal and tranquil. Whenever there was a high note sung a light color would be thrown, and when a lower note was sung, a darker color was cast. A sympathy of colors and opera. It was too bad Rico couldn't have dreams like this all the time. Dreams of such beauty and elegance. During the song there was a silence. Nothing. There was nothing. The colors faded into the black and there was nullity.

The dream came to an abrupt end when the van came to a slow stop, making the law of momentum throw Rico slightly forward. She didn't realize how long she'd been sleeping but she guessed a while for they had arrived at their temporary stakeout location. Everyone except the driver stepped out, including those in the SUV and other van. One stayed behind outside with the drivers still in the cars for surveillance.

They were now standing on an almost empty sidewalk where only a few people strolled. Around them were five story apartment buildings that were rather run down and rusty. The color of brown was very visible on each building. On the streets was spread out trash of burger wrappers and empty scrunched up empty soda cans. In the middle of the street rolled an empty plastic trash can like a tumbleweed. It rolled on until a passing car bumped it, pushing it clear out of the way. The people that walked buy might as well have been trash themselves. Dirty clothes, horrible smell, and just the look of an angry person that had too much to deal with wasn't exactly a happy person to see. However fear did not go through Rico's body. She was perfectly fine, for she had seen uglier plenty of times, such as yesterday morning. But she had even seen worse than _that_ before. Her mind recalled the time that she had cut the guts out of a drug smuggler; literally. During that mission Rico saw Jean get a little queasy. Rico gave a silent laugh at this precious memory.

The lobby of the apartment the group walked in (all eight of them, including Rico, Jean, and Aetos) was a mess, as expected. Rico took a guess that the room they were going to was a mess as well. There was painting of a lighthouse on the wall that was smudged with some foreign brown stain, the leather couches had rips, the table had multiple cuts on it. Even the key clerk was fat and ugly. He smelled horrible as the group approached him to collect their room key. He smelled like rotten cheese and onions. _Disgustoso_.

No one in the group spoke a word as they climbed the stairway up to the fourth floor where down the hallway one of the men unlocked a room numbered 316. This was no ordinary room. It was a base.

There were giant tape recorders, two M-16's resting against the bathroom door, pairs of binoculars everywhere, a telescope pointing out the open window, piles of paper work scattered on the floor and about four computers all up and running. This really _was_ big. Rico was underestimating the importance of this entire operation.

At one of the computers was a bald man with square glasses typing away while another manned the telescope writing down notes on a memo pad. Neither payed attention to the entering party. The two simply continued their work imperceptibly. The man on the computer was typing so slow he was probably writing one paragraph an hour. The same went for the one by the telescope on his pad.

One of the party members motioned Rico towards the telescope. She obeyed as he told her to take a look through the lenses as the man with the pad stepped aside, staring at Rico like she was an outsider (of which she was). Rico guessed that she was like a rumor come true. On more than one occasion when Rico met with a friend of Section 2, she was viewed like seeing the Loch Ness Monster in person after hearing all about her from an old Scottish sailor with an eye patch and bottle of booze.

Through the lenses Rico saw a man on the other side of a window in the apartment building across from theirs. He was sitting against it drinking from a glass bottle. A light within the room flashed, most like a television set. Immediately Rico identified the man as Lev, her target. The man that she would endure torture from for who knew how long. It was this man that raped the lives (and bodies) of hundreds of other children within southern Europe. An absolute disgrace of a man and human being.

"I'm sure you recognize him from the photo I showed you" Aetos took a stand next to the child.

"Yes"

The man that had been looking at Rico like an alien handed his writing pad to Aetos, leaving them alone and going to one of the computers, starting to type on it like the other man. Aetos flipped through the pages, his hand covering his mouth signaling thought. Occasionally he nodded his head as if approving something. He grunted once or twice as well.

"Well, I was going to send you in right away" He stopped mid sentence, flipping another page, "But it appears Mr. Lev has three extra guests right now that will be leaving..." Another page flipped, "In just a little bit; probably at least two hours. It seems Mr. Lev will be here for a little while too, which is good for us, but bad for the kids inside that apartment" Again another page flipped, "It seems Mr. Lev has rented out one other apartment room, all adjacent to each other, to keep his treasures. I'll be sending you in tomorrow morning instead of today as planned"

Aetos put the pad on the floor and looked out at the city. He folded up the telescope and drew the green curtains, covered with stains, closed. Rico took notice that unlike everywhere else in this part of the city, this room actually smelled decent despite having nine old men inside it. She identified the one smell in the world that gave her comfort: gunpowder. It turned her on and always put her in a better mood.

"Rico this guy is dangerous. I know I don't have to tell you, but be careful. You're very brave for taking up this mission" Aetos smiled down upon her, messing her hair.

Did she have a choice? It wasn't like she was asked if she wanted to do this or not. And then she went back to her thinking before: would she have said no if asked? She was now reconsidering that question with good thought.

Jean came over and placed his firm hand on her shoulder, "She'll be fine, trust me"

Rico smiled, and wished Jean could have smiled with her, but his mouth stayed as straight as a line, unmoving and unemotional. Jean was a man of work, not emotions. His heart was to his job and pay, not to how others perceived him or to how he acted amongst those around him. All he did was get the job done, and get it done well.

"Here," One of the other men handed Jean a key, "Your room with your girl is right next door, 317. Why don't you go get comfortable and we'll send you over something to eat"

"Very well," He snatched the keys from his hands, "Come" He commanded his girl as the two left the room, trying their best to avoid the papers on the floor that were of importance yet left to be crunched.

The other room was pretty clean. Some paint was peeling off and there was a hole in the wall above the king sized bed. Wait, king sized bed? Now how was this going to work? Rico would most likely wind up sleeping in the leather couch. She didn't mind. Better Jean be satisfied with comfort than her. It was her handler that mattered, not herself.

Jean drew back the curtains and looked in disgust at the city that was before him. He grunted, taking a seat on the bed, the springs squeaking like a mouse, just like back at headquarters. Just like home.

Within a few moments the same man that had given Jean the keys to the room showed up with some bags of pasta dishes. They smelled fresh and _delizioso_. Rico gave that childish smile of hers, the mouth watering with lust.

The two of them sat at the wooden near the television set and ate quietly. The table was unbalanced and tilted back and forth as the two stabbed with their forks.

"Here," Jean leaned forward with a napkin and wiped a smudge of sauce off Rico's face.

"Thank you" Rico's heart skipped a few beats, that feeling of love returning.

After Jean finished his small meal he looked out the window, chin in hands.

"I want you to be careful Rico"

"Yes, sir"

To be careful. That was all she wanted to do too. Just to be careful on this assignment. She wanted to be careful and make her handler proud of her. If she could make him proud then she herself could be satisfied and content. She could be _felice_. She could be happy. Happy for herself and him.

Jean stood up and flicked on the T.V, putting on a local news station. A thunder storm was approaching Genoa. Rico hated thunder. It was loud and frightening. She just hated it.

The day had gone by so quickly. Twenty-four hours had gone by so fast that it seemed the entire day had only lasted twenty-four minutes, maybe even twenty-four seconds. But soon enough the day was almost over.

Night befell the two with only a television speaking as well as the booming lightning that rocked the sky and the heart of Rico as it thumped erratically. As ten o'clock hit, Jean decided the two should turn in. The thunder roared loud over the city, covering the sound of the busy highway down the way. Rico shook in fear as she took a briefcase that had been brought for her into the dirty bathroom. She changed into a white nightgown and emerged from the bathroom, taking an awkward lying position in the chair. And again another shock came.

"We'll share the bed," Jean said, almost correcting her action.

Rico felt like crying tears of joy, but his this emotion by slowly climbing into the bed with her handler. He was finally showing emotion and care for her.

When Rico closed her eyes she felt a hand grab hers. Warm. It was a warm hand and a warm feeling that overcame Rico. She didn't open her eyes because it would only ruin the moment, and also Jean was probably embarrassed enough to be even touching her. This was more than enough to resupply Rico with the dream of vibrant colors with Ode to Joy playing in the background. A dream of peace and love. _Pace e di amore_.


	3. Delivery

The sound of a honking truck awoke Rico with a startle. She nearly fell out of the brown stained bed she had been sleeping in with Jose. Her nose caught whiff of a foul smell that appeared to be coming from the open window to her side. The curtains drifted with the wind as it whistled a cold blow. The sound of a busy city that was buried in a dirty underworld was all Rico could hear. Though Genoa did attract many dolt tourists from all over the world, there was a part of the city that they never put on a postcard to send to their familia The part that was crawling with the scum of all of Italy. The part where men of all darkness walked with the smell of drugs and booze embedded into their breath. The part the government never wanted to remind their people about. Pure ignorance. Ignorance in the masses.

Rico hopped off the bed, the springs squeaking like a mouse, just like back home. She walked to the window and peeped out the small opening in the curtains. She could see the disgusting city before her. Buildings covered with rust, people as dirty as trash. A truly hideous place. It was no wonder why so many scum of Italy walked these streets.

The sound of the city captivated Rico's attention as she pressed her nose lightly against the cold glass. In the distance was the sound of spattered gunfire. A car spun it's tires against the hard pavement screeching like an animal. She could hear a low flying plane roar overhead, mimicking the sound of thunder. These were the sounds of the underground world. The world that Rico would soon enter to catch one of the worlds most disgusting men that walked the Earth. What crimes were worse than those done to children? Rico couldn't think of any at all. Children were always innocent and never deserved the torture and brutality that was done upon them. They never once deserved to be raped dozens of times a night, or sodomized endlessly. Her body shivered with fear knowing that she would have to endure such horrible acts of terror and torture. She was lucky that she wasn't born into that kind of world, unlike the other kids she would be meeting. She was also lucky she had the ability to leave that world at any moment with just a whisper of words. She just hoped that they would be there in time before who knew what was going to be done to her. The fear was overwhelming. Questions raced inside her mind, asking who, what, where, and why all at the same time. Her head began to ache with pain as she asked herself these questions about this assignment. Never before had she questioned an assignment given to her, but this mission was somehow different than all the rest she had completed during her time with the agency. This one was just different.

When Rico turned around away from the window she was faced with words of discipline by her teacher.

"Don't stand so close to the window" Jean sounded a bit tired, but didn't look it at all, "We don't want anyone to see you."

"_Sì_, _signore_" Was the appropriate answer Rico replied with to please her master, and show the appropriate respect.

It was clear that Jean wouldn't be acting like he had the previous day. He most likely didn't want to seem soft around the other men, which was understandable. He never wanted to look weak in front of anyone. But the previous day he had clearly shown his heart to Rico and that memory was all she needed to make it through all of this. If she could keep that precious memory alive in her mind and heart, she could make it through this perfectly fine. She knew she could.

In the next room Rico heard some shouting. Not to her surprise the argument was all in Greek, so Rico understood none of it despite the words being very clearly spoken and loud enough for the buildings across the street to hear. She could only pick out the words help, stop, and kill, but that wasn't enough to make a conclusion on what the conversation was about. Most likely it had something to do with this mission.

"Get changed, take a shower, and brush your teeth" The out of order directions that Jean gave resembled words of a father.

Rico gave her usual blank look as she obeyed by entering the bathroom. She slipped off her white nightgown and underwear, her young adolescent body in the nude. She stepped into the dirty shower that was stained with unknown gunk. She thought the ironic thing about taking a shower here was that it would probably make her even more dirty than she already was. The shower water didn't feel like shower water as it dripped down her flat chest and ran through her yellow hair. Her hands became covered with mushy strawberry shampoo from a bottle that was half empty, and half trustworthy on its contents for it was just sitting on the edge of the shower. Her hair became redolence of a strawberry field that made her smile pleasantly. Her mind became wrapped around the image of strawberries and the sound of Verdi playing somewhere in the distance. It was a vision and sound of perfect peace and harmony for the young girl. She ran the bar of soap along her arms, feeling her own smooth skin. There was nothing like a nice hot shower.

When she stepped out of the shower she took a long look in the mirror. Her hand combed through her hair, pulling out a few knots. She winced as she saw a few pieces of hair fall to the wet floor, making a snapping-like sound as they were pulled. A tear or two formed in her eyes. She couldn't let something as simple as the pulling off of a piece of hair hurt her. She had to be strong for this assignment, for she was about to endure pain that she knew would hurt worse than a dozen bullets in her side. She just had to work through it with the memories of Jean in her eyes, mind, and heart. If she had a heart. She once heard Jean make a comment about her and the other girls saying that they were only heartless and soulless machines built for war and the government's dirty work. She remember him predicting that one day eventually the Italian government would use the girls and ones like them for militaristic reasons. That did seem likely once Rico had thought about it for a while. Because if any of the girls died, it wasn't like they needed a giant ceremony. The girls were replaceable, unlike the lives of young Italian men. They were just like tanks; big, powerful, replaceable, machines that could be built and built again.

Rico left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and headed into the main room where she saw Jean looking out the window, going against his own orders, being very hypocritical. His stare was intense as he looked out to the broken city. Whatever he was thinking about, it had a hold on his thoughts. She wondered what it could be. But she had no time to contemplate such things, despite her yearning to know. She picked up a small baggy Jean had put on chair with a toothbrush and toothpaste inside. She also picked up her bag with clothes in it and headed into the bathroom. Inside she slipped on her white cotton underwear, white spaghetti strap shirt with a black square in the center, and long blue jeans. Over her arms she slipped her final peace of clothing; a gray cotton zippered sweatshirt. These were the clothes that were given to her to wear for this assignment. Her disguise. The only part missing was the acting of a poor lost little girl looking for help. She brushed her teeth hard until they were as white as paper being stained with blood by her bleeding gums.

Back in the main room Jean was still at the window, hands on his hips. He slowly began pacing back and forth along the glass window. He looked at nothing but the world on the other side of the wall. He paced for a few minutes before pivoting to face Rico. His eyes went up and down her body sending an uncomfortable feeling down Rico's spine. She felt like an item in a shop being scoped out for purchase. She didn't like it at all and turned her eyes towards the floor in embarrassment as she felt butterflies fly in her stomach. Her forehead and cheeks burned like hot coals on a fire. Her nerves jumped like children on a trampoline.

"Aetos came in while you were showering. You'll be moving out in forty minutes. They planted a listening device on the door of the room you're going into."

"Yes, sir"

Jean sat down and put on the television, flicking on some local news station spoken in German. Rico didn't think he understood what the reporters were saying, but she didn't think he cared. She wondered if he cared about anything at that moment.

In the next room where the Greek government workers were staying came the sound of music. The singer sounded French to her, and the genre like old French pop or something similar. French and German were the languages the girls learned at the agency so she understood the lyrics. But not only did she know the topic of what was being sung, but she knew who the singer was; Charles Trenet. She had once heard Henrieta playing one of his songs on her violin. She thought it was very beautiful music. She couldn't remember the songs name but she quietly sang the lyrics inside her head.

_...Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs... A des reflets d'argent..._

Oh, what was the song title? Her mind was as blank as a cloud, trying to get the title. What was it? This was going to be bothering her for a while until she could know the title of this pretty song.

Her concentrated thoughts were interrupted when the sound of gunfire rang in her ears. It was somewhere off in the distance, but close enough for both Rico and Jean to jump back a little in surprise. Jean paid close attention to the window. Rico heard the screeching of tires and approached the window as well, going against her orders in the yearning of curiosity. Down below she saw two sports cars giving chase to each other at a high rate of speed. They turned around a corner and disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving only the fading sound of their engines for those nearby to listen and the skid marks of their tires. Thy left nothing but destruction to the roads, and hurting to the ears. Just moments later a police car followed their same path, sirens blaring. It too took the same turn, leaving behind a third pair of skid marks. And soon the sirens faded in the distance, and all that was left was the sound of Charles Trenet singing his heart out. He had been one of the last of his musical kind during the time of World War II. She remembered that from Henreitta who told Rico a bit about him.

Time passed slowly as the German news reporter blabbed on about some distant land and some distant news. Jean broke the silence.

"I want you to be careful Rico. I mean it" His eyes met hers as he sat still on the squeaky bed.

His lips were straight with an expression of blankness, but his eyes and voice were doting, filling the young girls heart with joy, pressing a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes as she shared the sparkle. This was love. It truly was, Rico was sure of it. She couldn't be sure on Jeans feelings of her, but she was sure they were goodhearted. She was sure he didn't feel as cold about her as she once thought he had. She knew his heart was loving, and for this she could live for with a smile.

A knock came on the door, opening without the consent of either Jean or Rico. It was the man that had been at the telescope the previous day who had given Rico a look of alienation. He told them to come as they followed him into the next door room where everyone was working as busy as bees in a hive. Half of the men were on computers typing away and watching videos. Aetos was in the corner looking at a television set on the floor that was showing four different rooms in black and white. The rooms resembled the one they were all huddled in, so Rico made an educated guess that the video was of the apartment across the way, of which she would be entering in just a while. His squinting eyes moved from the flashing box to young Rico, as did half of the eyes of the room when the door closed behind her. She felt like an item in a shop again, like an unwelcome guest. Aetos smiled and slowly stood up, approaching Rico, putting his hand on her shoulder with a friendly look, his eyes peering down onto her. He spoke not a word as he patted her head, messing with her hair. He went over and shut off the T.V, motioning the two Italians to follow him as he left the crowded room. They did, walking down the rotten staircase to the main lobby where the fat clerk was present behind his counter eating a sandwich, tomatoes flopping down his shirt. Same disgusting pig as before.

Outside on the street Rico noticed that the caravan of vans she had rode in the previous day were now gone from sight. That was until she spotted the same SUV, noting the front license plant which she had made memory of before, down the street parked on the side of the curb where a man in a brown trench coat stood in front of the hood, smoking a cigarette. A man leaning against a lamp post in front of them nodded his head to Aetos as he came forward to them. The two traded words in Greek. The man pointed to the apartment building where Rico would be entering, making several motions with his hands. The two shook hands as the man departed from them, walking in the opposite direction, and the three were walking again. They stopped behind a small truck.

"This is it" Aetos turned towards Rico, "This is where you get off. Do you remember everything I told you? I mean the story about your fake self?"

"Yes, sir" Rico replied nodding her head.

"Good. Narella," He winked "Let me review some final things with you,"

"Yes, sir" Rico repeated.

"You are never to reveal your true identity, not even to the other kids. Stick to the story I told you at all costs. Your cover can not be blown. Ever. Once you're inside, like I said before, prepare your body for torture. I know that will be hard, but you have to do it for the other children out there that this man controls and owns. You have to be _forte_. You must be as strong as ever. Be smart, and act smart Narella. Go to the steps of the apartment now and don't look back. We have reason to believe your target will be exiting the apartment shortly. Our phone tapping caught him ordering a pizza and it was for pick-up, so we hope it'll be him who leaves to get it. Cry like you've never cried before and act like you've never acted before. _Buona fortuna_. Lots of good luck." He pushed her forward slightly, nearly making her trip over her own feet.

Rico heard not a word from either man, but only their footsteps as they departed the other way. She felt alone as she walked down the sidewalk passing by a few other people. She looked both ways and crossed the street cautiously with a fast pace. Her little feet clapped on the pavement. It seemed like forever before she reached the other side of the cement. She kept calm as she approached the steps towards the apartment, taking a seat next to the railing. There was stains of all sorts where she sat, but she ignored them. She simply sat in silence for a few moments before she took a deep breath and forced herself to cry, something she had rarely done before. Tears slowly began to fall down her cheeks and her lips lightly trembled. The funny thing was while this was of course mainly acting, some of it really came from her heart. Her tears were of joy as she remembered the smell and smile of Jean on the day she had first felt the love she had been hiding in her heart for so long. Her nose twitched as she tried to reinvent his fragrance. She wanted to always remember that smell. She never wanted to forget how it tickled her nose and made her smile. Her mind pictured his face as she buried her face in her hands, weeping like a mad widow. It was no longer acting, but true sorrow with the thought she could never see him again. She realized that this place may be her grave and her resting place. No. She couldn't let that happen. She had to be strong so she could smell that smell again. If she wanted to get out of this she had to be strong. Nothing had happened to her and yet she was already building this attitude, all for the sake of Jean. All for the sake of love.

The young girl began to ponder about what life would be like if both her and Jean were in love together. She imagined him holding her close in his arms, confessing his love to her as the two stood alongside a beach. She imagined them visiting the Vatican and taking numerous pictures together, acting like complete tourists. However, deep down Rico knew that these images could never become reality. In the eyes of Jean, she was just a tool. And in the eyes of the public, a child being in such a relationship with an older man would be appalling and disgusting. The world would fail to understand their love and do nothing but cast them out of society. But she wouldn't mind being an outcast, as long as she was with Jean, hand in hand with him. That's all that mattered to her. Her mind couldn't unwrap on the thought of him. She'd do anything to be with him, even if it meant leaving all the other girls behind just for the sake of their relationship.

Rico was so lost in this thought that she jumped a bit when she felt a hand fall upon her shoulder from behind her. It took her a while to make out the words that were being said to her, her hearing being delayed by her emotions.

"Are you alright?" The accent sounded eastern, similar to Russian by the way the speaker rolled their r's.

Rico put the picture to the face right away. It was him. It was Lev. This was the beginning of everything.

"Y-yes, I'm fine" Rico stumbled, wiping away some tears.

"What's wrong?" He was a lot older face to face as he bent down, rubbing her shoulders, "Are you lost?"

"Yes, my parents left...m-me here" Pushing herself forward, Rico covered her face in the mans brown jacket, which smelled rather nice.

Lev hushed her, hugging her against his chest, telling her everything was alright. He rubbed her back gently, going back and forth with his masculine hand. He felt his fingers slightly scratch her back in a slightly aggressive manner. She lightly pulled back from his shirt, wet from tears. She apologized for staining his shirt with her childish tears.

"Oh no, don't worry my child. Tell me child, _come ti chiami_?"

"Narella. Narella Lekkas" She said as hopelessly as she could make herself sound.

"That's a good name. I like that name. My name is Lev."

Rico was surprised he was using his actual first name. She guessed that if she asked for his last name he'd probably give a false one. She dared not ask though, for she had to avoid raising any suspicion in him. She had to be careful and also smart. This was her most important assignment. Completing it successfully was all that mattered, as well as getting out alive.

"Tell me Narella, would you like some pizza? I was just on my way to get some for me and my friends" He gave a warm smile as he gripped her shoulders, pulling her up from the steps.

Rico put a hand on her stomach, "Is that okay? Can I really?" She put hope into her voice, with a smile on her lips.

"_Andiamo_" He said as he motioned her to go with him as he put his arm around her shoulders, pushing her forward as they walked side by side.

Everything had happened so quickly. One day she was shooting scarecrows, the next she was sharing smiles with Europe's biggest pedophile. She couldn't believe how fast things changed within just days. What was scaring her the most was not having any weapons, and not being allowed to harm her target. It was the opposite of what she was used to doing during her normal day. But somehow despite the speed of things, she had managed to just barely comprehend everything that had happened within the past few hours. Time really did fly.

The two walked to a small blood red Fiat where Lev told Rico to get inside the passenger seat as he turned his key in the door. Rico was gave a quick glance at his license plate and memorized it; OL 87YD6. She put it together as Old Like 87 Years Doing 6. She opened the door and took a seat in, to her big surprise, the extremely clean car. The only trash in the entire thing was a napkin in the back seat and a small cardboard box with a label in Russian, of which Rico could not read. Lev started the car up and soon they were off across the dirty streets of Italy. Cars flashed by as Lev drove slowly and calmly along the busy streets. He began to speak to Rico about himself and where he was from. He asked her questions about her past. She stuck to the story that Aetos told her to tell. She told him of her parents and of where she lived. She knew she had to stick straight because if she went bent then the entire assignment could be in jeopardy.

"Chess, huh? I love to play." Lev smiled, "Maybe back at my apartment we can play a game together" He laughed as they pulled into a shopping area, parking in front of a pizza shop, "Wait, here"

Lev left Rico all alone in the car. If Rico was a normal child, she would have escaped right there. But as far as she knew she had no reason to run from him yet. Plus she wasn't allowed to leave him anyways. It was her mission to stick by his side for as long as she could. But Lev seemed to be nice, which was probably just a mask to lure in his victims. His adolescent victims.

When Lev came back, he opened the passenger door and placed a wooden basket on Rico's lap, asking her to hold it. She obeyed and looked inside it. It was a basket full of oranges. They smelled wonderful and fresh. Her fingers touched them smoothly as she felt their ruggedness. She thought that they probably tasted as good as they smelled.

Lev got back in his seat, placing two pizza boxes in the back seat, which smelled as good as the oranges, but were smothered by the fruits smell. They were so rough and soft at the same time. Lev told her that he knew the pizza shop owner, and said that the owner had given Lev some extra oranges he had lying around the house. The owner usually gave Lev extra surplus of food apparently, probably because he knew he had a lot of children to feed. Lev told Rico she could have one if she wanted one, so she took the offer and carefully selected one out of the basket. No that one was too mushy. That one was too small. That one had a black hole in it. Yes, that one. That one was perfect. Rico took a bite and was lost in a world of flavor. She had rarely had oranges because they were so expensive in all of Italy. A lot of them were imported from Spain. She knew that from a show she had watched on television once a little while ago.

The juice tickled her tongue as she gave a smile, grinning away. Some juice trickled down her neck as she ate quite unmannered. She sometimes had a slovenly eating habit when it came to fruits because they were so good she just had to eat them up right away. Lev gave her a napkin to wipe the juices away. She yawned as she took a last bite of the orange, coughing heavily. The napkin was now pressed against her mouth against her will. She squirmed a bit, trying to fight back, but lightly fell into a doze, seeing nothing but the color black. She gave one last kick before she fell into the abyss known as sleep.


End file.
